


Las Cinco Muertes

by Tarlan



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Community: anotheratlantis, Community: fanfic100, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-17
Updated: 2007-09-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:55:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After hearing about the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park, paleontologist Rodney McKay wants to see them for himself. He hires big game hunter, John Sheppard to protect him... but disaster strikes when they arrive on the island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Las Cinco Muertes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: LJ's anotheratlantis: Regular AU Challenge: 40 and fanfic100: Prompt. 053. Earth.

  
 

The five main islands in Las Cinco Muertes are: Isla Matanceros, Isla Muerte, Isla Sorna, Isla Tacano, and Isla Pena

****

Rodney listened with interest from the back of the auditorium as Alan Grant made his latest plea for funding for his dig in Montana and refused to get sidetracked by people wanting to know about Jurassic Park instead. He couldn't understand the man not wanting to cash in on the fame and fortune from his brush with dinosaurs in Hammond's theme park. Admittedly, Grant had a point concerning the actual dinosaurs and how they were not the 'real thing'. The InGen scientists had used modern amphibian and reptile DNA to replace missing sequences in the gene strands but even Grant had to admit that the differences were negligible overall. The brachiosaurus still looked like a brachiosaurus and a triceratops was still a triceratops, and Rodney desperately wanted to see these amazing creatures in all their full grown glory. He wanted to see what Grant had seen with his own eyes. He wanted to feel the leathery lips of a brachiosaurus as it ate leaves from his hand. He wanted to study the cycle of life and death, and witness their mating habits and their predator evasion patterns.

He winced slightly at that thought as that was one aspect that he did not wish to re-enact. As much as the great dinosaur predators fascinated him, he would rather not stand too close to a T-Rex or a velociraptor unless it was under heavy sedation or behind a heavy duty electrical fence. Both Grant and Ian Malcolm had written enough about the intelligence and aggressive nature of the velociraptors to make him think twice about venturing into their hunting grounds without adequate protection. After all, Rodney was used to dealing with creatures that died millions of years in the past rather than ones that were alive and hungry for fresh meat, any meat.

When Grant left the auditorium, Rodney tried to attract his attention but the press of others intent on gaining one more insight or gory detail from his ordeal on Isla Nublar. He sighed and gripped his copy of Grant's book tighter. Perhaps he would have better luck speaking to Grant out at the Montana dig. He returned to the small apartment he'd taken in the university town and let his hands trail across the spines of books that seemed as old and dusty as their contents. His own book sat on the coffee table, opened to one of his own theories regarding the flocking instincts of dinosaurs as they evaded a predator, basing his conjecture more on birds than modern day reptiles. He and Grant had at least agreed on many of their theories though Rodney had also been an advocate of dinosaurs not being a uniform color, of them having skin coloring to attract a mate or deter a predator, similar to a bird's plumage. Grant had made mention of the bird-like characteristics of the velociraptors and the report from those who rescued the little girl who'd been attacked on Isla Sorna had described the comsognathus, the compys, as chicken-like but with sharp beaks and claws. No one had said much about their coloring though, and that was what interested Rodney the most, even though the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park could not truly prove his theories because of their tainted DNA. Regardless of that hard fact, he wanted to see them.

It took three days to find out where Grant was digging and to obtain decent transport to the area, only to discover the site closed up for the weekend with just a couple of local men left behind to guard the tents and expensive equipment.

"What do you mean he's gone? Gone where?" Rodney demanded and the slack-jawed yokel merely gaped at him and shrugged his shoulders.

Rodney couldn't believe that he'd come all this way out into the dry heat of the Badlands for nothing. He took off his hat and wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his hand, gazing out across the fine sand to where a cover protected whatever Grant and his assistant were working on. Half tempted to take a look, he took a step in that direction only for the guard to step in front of him.

"Site's off limits until the doc gets back."

"I'm a paleontologist," Rodney stated with disgust. "I'm hardly likely to disturb anything."

"Rules is rules."

The second guard chose that moment to offer up a snippet of information. "Heard he and Billy took off with some rich couple to do a fly over of that dinosaur island. Offered him a boatload of cash."

"What rich couple?"

"The Kurdmans? No...Kirbys." The man grinned, obviously pleased that he'd recalled the names.

Rodney slapped his hat against his thigh in anger. "Well that's just... great!"

Not only had he missed Grant but he'd missed an opportunity to get on that flight and see Isla Nublar for himself... unless they had not yet started out for the island. "When did they leave?"

"Day before yesterday and they should be back a week tomorrow."

Rodney's head dropped in a mixture of despair and resignation. There was little reason for staying here any longer so he gave a perfunctory wave and stalked back to the battered 4-wheel drive rental that had been hell on his back all the way here, looking forward to the journey back to civilization, and his own far more comfortable car, even less than the trip out here.

It took most of a day to reach his small apartment and he collapsed upon the couch, groaning at his complaining back. All the way back here, his thoughts had centered on his current financial position and he reckoned that if he sold this apartment then he'd have enough money to finance a trip to Las Cinco Muertes, the islands some distance off Costa Rica known as the five deaths. The name was a misnomer because there was at least eight islands in the chain including Isla Sorna, the largest in the chain and location of Site B. He would have preferred to go to Isla Nublar with Grant but the Costa Rican government had patrol ships and planes watching that area, whereas Las Cinco Muertes were another 87 miles further on to the south-west, and so less heavily guarded. If he sold his car too then he'd have enough to hire someone to watch his back while he watched the dinosaurs.

He chewed thoughtfully on the knuckles of one hand, aware that selling everything he owned would make him dependent on his sister again. Although Jeannie was happy enough to help him out, her husband hadn't been too pleased at sharing his home, food and amenities with his 'deadbeat brother-in-law' last time around. Still, when it came down to it, Rodney knew he had already made up his mind. He'd spent most of his life enraptured by dinosaurs, ever since the day his father came home with a dinosaur book and a paleontology kit rather than the 'Young Astronomers' handbook and telescope that he'd begged for. He couldn't ignore the opportunity to study living, breathing dinosaurs. Plus, he could probably write a book following his adventure and publish his findings, earning him the respect of the Paleontology community and gaining some lucrative job offers in the process, maybe a seat in one of the better universities.

Taking a deep breath, he contacted the real estate agent, aware that in this busy university town, there would be a waiting list of prospective buyers. Just as he hoped, one was willing to part with cash for immediate possession, leaving Rodney with only a day to pack all his belongings. He hired a removal firm, paying them to keep his possessions in storage until his return and then he drove to the nearest garage and sold his car, aware that he could have gotten a little more for it if he'd been prepared to drive around looking for a better dealer. The cab dropped him off at the airport; he picked up his large backpack containing all the possessions he had allowed himself for this journey and shrugged into it, whining under his breath at the weight on his already abused back as he moved through the concourse towards the closest ticket agent.

***

John rocked his head from side to side to stretch out the tension in his neck from staying still for so long. Even after two hours in one position, he still held the camera easily, sighting down it towards the shape barely noticeable in the branches of a nearby tree and snapping off quick shots that caught the jaguar in the dappled light. He cursed when his client stumbled noisily through the trees, the cat tensing muscles and checking in his direction. Garrick dropped down beside him, complaining immediately about the accommodation and demanding to know when he was going to see a jaguar, or anything else for that matter.

John cursed as the cat decided to beat a hasty retreat deeper into the jungle, further away from encroaching humans.

"Well, I did have a jaguar all lined up in that tree over there but...something," he said rather pointedly, "Just scared it away."

"Oh yes. How convenient that you had a jaguar, and I suppose I'm expected to imagine that the pitiful excuse for a tent is luxury accommodation too, hmm?"

What John wants to say is 'this is a jungle, not the Ritz,' but what he says instead is, "I'm sure you're be comfortable once you've settled in for the night."

Garrick made a disgruntled sound, sticking his nose high in the air and stalked away, making even more noise as he hacked his way back through the undergrowth rather than walking more carefully along the tiny trail that John had created. He sighed heavily, almost wishing he had stayed in Yosemite taking tourists out on guided aerial tours. He wasn't really cut out for game hunting on the ground even though he'd hunted a lot as a kid with his father. He preferred to zone in from the air, hovering over magnificent scenery or setting down close to rivers for coarse fishing. As for the game hunting, he took out only those people who preferred to shoot with cameras rather than guns even though he had tracked and killed a number of animals in his life, including humans, and had been tracked like an animal too.

He let the wash of memories from Afghanistan flood over him, recalling why he had taken resignation rather than fight against the charge and gain a dishonorable discharge for disobeying a direct order. They'd given him the option only because they knew those orders had been stupid and unpatriotic. Perhaps he could have won but the chances were that he'd end up in some dead end posting in some inhospitable climate like Antarctica, ferrying passengers like a glorified taxi driver.

Garrick continued to bitch all night long. Nothing was good enough for the man; the food inedible, the tent uncomfortable, the ground too hard, the camp too dark. Then there were the biting insects that seemed to favor Garrick and his very young looking companion, who seemed a lot more agreeable and far more intimate than John would have liked to have been with Garrick, judging by the low moans and 'fuck me harder, senor' that came from their tent in the early hours of the morning. Although he needed the money, John was grateful that Garrick had only booked an overnighter. He doubted he could put up with the man and his whining for another full day and night, and definitely not with the noisy lovemaking that only reminded him of how long it had been since he'd last had someone begging for it from him.

He packed up the camp and carried it across the large clearing to where his helicopter sat waiting, packing the equipment into the back and waiting for Garrick and his native boyfriend to climb inside. If the kid had been any younger, John would have refused to bring him here in the first place but Carlos was old enough to make his own choices. John had seen his kind in a dozen different countries; young, pretty boys willing to debase themselves for money and a possible green card to whatever country their rich 'patron' came from. No doubt Garrick would be gone in another week and Carlos would be back in the bars frequented by rich tourists seeking another sugar daddy. He had no right to remonstrate with Carlos though because he was just as bad, maybe worse, whoring his soul to pay the bills whereas Carlos was only whoring his body.

After he dropped Garrick back outside his expensive hotel the following afternoon, John didn't expect a tip so he wasn't surprised when he didn't get one from the haughty man. He coughed 'asshole' behind his hand as the man walked away, smiling pleasantly when Garrick looked back, uncertain if he had heard correctly but, obviously, not wanting to make a scene.

One of the bellhops, Eduardo, grinned wryly and came towards him. "I can tell Mr. Garrick was not best pleased."

"You could say that."

"Did you see anything of worth out there this time."

"Caught a few good shots of a jaguar before Mr. Heavy Boots scared it away."

Eduardo sighed. "Plus Mr. Garrick is not good tipper, and Alejandro was looking for you yesterday for the money you owe."

John groaned. He'd hoped to have a few more days before Alejandro came calling for the interest on the small loan John had taken to start up this 'jungle guide' business except, so far, Garrick had been his one and only customer.

"There is a new Americano in town, and he seeks something a little more costly - and dangerous. Shall I pass him your name?"

"Dangerous how?"

"He wishes to go to Las Cinco Muertes but no one is willing to go since Enrique Cardoso disappeared while taking the two tourists on his dino-soar boat."

John nodded, having already heard the rumors surrounding the five islands, and read articles concerning the dinosaurs created by InGen. He chewed on his lower lip as he considered the danger associated with taking anyone into such an unpredictable environment but had to admit that he desperately needed the money - and the adventure. Plus he could sell the photos to magazines around the world.

"Yeah. Give him my name and tell him where to find me."

****

Rodney blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness inside the bar after the brightness of the noon day sun. The bellhop had passed him a name and meeting place, telling him to look for the fellow Americano. Of course, Rodney tried to explain that he wasn't American but he could tell that the man-boy could not care less. Canadian, American, English, German? It was all the same to him, just another rich white man seeking something or salvation in the poverty stricken areas of Costa Rica.

He could see only two white men in the small bar. One was fat and bloated, face ruddy from too much alcohol, hair greasy and slicked back into a pony tail. The man belched loudly and Rodney prayed this was not the man he was after. The other had short blond hair and a sharp, weasel face. A scar ran from the tip of his nose to the corner of his mouth. Of the two, Rodney hoped it was weasel-face and he approached slowly, settling down onto the stool besid3e the man.

"Ain't into faggots," the man stated in an English accent after giving him a cursory glance.

"What?"

The man turned on his stool and looked Rodney dead in the eye, his smile more crooked than Rodney's as he grew more appreciable. "Though I might make an exception for you, if you've got the cash."

"What...I...what are you...?" Rodney stammered, drawing back and squeaking most unmanly as the man reached out and shoved a hand on his dick, kneading him through the coarse fabric. He almost fell backwards off the stool as the man leaned in, lips puckered for a kiss.

"Leave him alone, Ruskin."

Rodney darted a look at his savior, jaw dropping as a handsome man with dark, messy hair sauntered up and laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder.

"You McKay?"

"Um..."

Dark eyes crinkled with amusement. "I'll take that as a yes." He steered Rodney over to a table almost hidden from the door and pushed him into a seat. "I hear you want a ride out to Las Cinco Muertes?"

"Where?"

"Isla Sorna?"

"Oh...yes...The Five Deaths."

"How much?"

"What?" His entire focus was now on the man's mouth and the way his lips formed words so beautifully.

"You're new to this, aren't you?"

Rodney snapped back to reality, shaking himself mentally. "Six hundred."

"Six hundred? That will barely cover the fuel costs."

"Oh...um." He straightened up. "How about you name your price and I'll see if I can match it?"

The man raised an eyebrow almost comically, giving him a rakish expression that went well with the five o'clock shadow adorning his face. His full lips were set in a slight pout, and then he smiled, white teeth glinting in the dim lighting of the bar.

"A thousand...and I get to sell anything I take a picture of to anyone I please, including National Geographic."

"Anyone you take except of me."

The handsome man cocked his head to the side, appraising Rodney. "That'll be a shame...but, yeah. Deal?"

Rodney huffed out a small laugh. "Deal. So...when can you be ready to go?"

"Tomorrow soon enough?"

"Oh yeah!" Rodney breathed and he grinned at the man as Sheppard knocked back the tumbler of whatever he was drinking and stood up. Rodney followed, shaking his hand on the deal and watching as his intended guide walked away. He saw the man speak to the barman and his eyes narrowed as the beady eyes rested on him. As he passed by on his way out, the barman slammed a baseball bat onto the hard counter.

"Senor? You owe me for three shots of tequila."

"What? But I haven't...?" The look in the man's eyes showed that he meant business and Rodney fumbled in his pocket for his ever decreasing wad of cash. He grumbled as he handed over the money. He'd be deducting that from Sheppard's thousand dollars.

****

Rodney stared at the helicopter in morbid fascination, wondering whether the slightly weathered looking craft could make it the 200 miles from Costa Rica to the five islands. He leaped forward as Sheppard grab hold of his belongings and placed them into the back of the helicopter one too gently.

"Hey, hey, hey! That's valuable equipment!"

Sheppard turned and gave him a tight smile. "It's in a shockproof case, McKay."

"Yes, well, you can't believe all the hype with those cases."

Sheppard picked up the next case and shoved it in on top even harder, much to Rodney's annoyance, hazel-green eyes flickering out across the small airport as if watching for something or someone. Rodney noticed the man tense slightly but the painful grip of strong fingers around a bicep distracted him as he was dragged towards the helicopter. A hand settled most inappropriately on his ass as Sheppard shoved him into his seat, slamming shut the door before racing around to the other side. He climbed in fast, fingers flying over the controls to set the rotor moving before pulling on a radio headset and shoving a second set into Rodney's lap.

Movement outside drew Rodney's eye as a car came towards them. It stopped a short distance away and an overweight man stepped out, hand raised to protect his face from dust kicked up by the down draft. Rodney startled as the helicopter lifted off.

"Wait, wait, wait." It took two tries to get the headset to work. "There's a man down there..."

"Yeah. I'll go see him when we get back."

Rodney frowned and then forgot all about the man when he realized there were in the air and banking sharply, the ground receding as they gained altitude. "Whoa! Do we need to...you know...fly so high or so fast?" He gasped again as the land gave way to water, leaving him with a sense of flying over nothing with new scenarios of death and destruction flashing through his head. "Oh no! You have to turn back!"

"Chill out, McKay! You're in good hands."

"Well forgive me if I beg to differ!"

****

John was tempted to let the helicopter drop a few dozen feet, just to see McKay's reaction but the thought of the already too pale looking man turning green and throwing up inside the cockpit was enough of a deterrent. Maybe he'd save that for the trip back if McKay continued to be an asshole. Instead, he concentrated on the ocean passing below and the instruments telling him which way to go. With a cruising speed of 120 mile per hour, the helicopter took just over two hours before the first sign of land appeared on the horizon. McKay had eased up on badmouthing his skills and his, admittedly, a little old and battered helicopter, losing that gray complexion and actually starting to enjoy the ride. When he caught sight of land, he began to buzz with excitement, and John had to smile at the boyish enthusiasm.

Of course, what he hadn't told McKay was that the helicopter only had a range of around 350 miles, which meant he needed to refuel before they headed back. However, the fuel was going to be a bit of a problem as he wasn't carrying enough to make the round trip back to Costa Rica. Instead, he was banking on InGen having left some fuel behind when they pulled out of Site B.

"We need to head inland," McKay stated, and John shrugged because the small airstrip was near the center of Isla Sorna.

As they came in low over the island, John had to snap his mouth shut when he realized he was gaping at the amazing creatures herding like elephant on the plains of Africa, except these creatures were larger than anything he'd ever seen before, moving with incredible grace as they ambled from tree to tree, stripping whole branches as their long necks stretched up for the highest, juiciest leaves.

"Brachiosaurus!" McKay squealed in a most unmanly way but John could forgive his excitement.

These creatures were simply awesome.

McKay started to point. "You see that one out front of the rest? That's the male standing guard over the rest of the herd! They're herding! And, oh WOW, Grant was right. Look! Look!"

John didn't have a clue who Grant was, let alone what he was right about. All John could see was these amazingly majestic creatures moving together towards the wide flowing river that almost neatly bisected the plain over which they were crossing. The shots of these creatures alone would be worth a small fortune to a dozen different magazines across the globe.

"Babies! They have young! Ingen said it was impossible for them to breed but...but..." He turned shining bright, blue eyes towards John and, for one moment, John forgot all about the brachiosaurs, mesmerized instead by the vivid blue that matched the color of the sea and sky. McKay's grin was infectious. "Look, they're all in herds!"

The sudden jolt of the helicopter brought him back to his senses and he stared down at the control panel before sweeping his eyes across the sky. He wondered if they'd hit an air pocket.

"Pull up, pull up!"

John caught the flash of mostly gray against the azure blue of the sky and banked sharply, taking a glancing blow as something struck one of the skids. The pteranodon, soared away on leathery wings, making a slower turn before heading right back for them. John veered sharply as it came in again, its long, sharp beak opening, a piercing cry shrieking from it as it attacked. It struck them on the tail, flipping the helicopter sideways and John thought he heard McKay screaming as the helicopter spun too low, clipping the tops of trees. Blood splattered across the cockpit window as the pteranodon passed too close to the still spinning rotor blades, a terrible whistling filling the air as the rotor snapped under the force, pieces whipping off in all directions, slicing through vegetation like a machete, and they dropped from the sky like a stone.

It could have been seconds, minutes or hours later when John groaned and opened his eyes, panicking momentarily when he found he couldn't move until he realized it was a heavy body sprawled across him rather than true paralysis. Gently, he rolled McKay off, pushing him back into the passenger seat, and tried to focus on his surroundings. The jungle vegetation had cushioned their fall and John groaned again when he realized they were wedged tight in a tree a good fifty feet above the ground.

"McKay?!" He tapped the man's cheek, calling twice more before the man began to stir. He moved the man into a more comfortable position, pressing a thick cloth against the jagged cut on the man's forearm to slow the bleeding.

"Where...? What happened?"

"We crashed."

"We...crashed?" McKay looked at him in disbelief, and then in growing horror as he stared out through the spider-cracked cockpit window. "Here? On the island?"

John winced but how bad could it be, really? Except McKay was starting to hyperventilate, making John wish he'd bought that Jurassic Park book just to understand what they might be up against. One thing was certain, McKay had read the book and was now petrified.

"Oh God, we're gonna die!"

"You're not gonna die."

"How do you know that? Hmm?" Panic gave way to anger. "Do you even know what to expect on this island? Do you have any clue what lives here?" He swallowed hard. "Velociraptors, Tyrannosaurus Rex....and a dozen other meat eating dinosaurs that InGen had no reason to bring back to life." His breath was coming in short, shallow pants as the fear gripped him again. John reached out and squeezed his arm over the cut, bringing a yelp of pain from the man that seemed to distract him from the growing panic momentarily, and then he began to hyperventilate again.

"Blood! Oh God, they'll scent it!" He was staring through the window, eyes darting in every direction as if expecting an attack from any direction at any moment.

"McKay!" John caught the man's face in his hands and forced McKay to meet his eyes. "You are not going to die here." He stared hard into the panic stricken eyes, unblinking, forcing McKay to focus on him, on his words and waiting until the promise in his words pushed through the veil of fear. McKay swallowed hard and nodded fractionally, his eyes clearing, losing the glassy look. He tightened his hands a fraction just to emphasize how determined he was that they were going to be okay. "I'll get the med-kit and we'll clean out that wound and bandage it up tight. Okay?"

Another hard swallow and McKay's lips tightened, long eyelashes blinking rapidly but John could see he was back under control so he let go and moved out of his seat, picking up the medical kit from the back. He opened it up and studied the contents for a moment before taking McKay's damaged arm. He felt the fine tremor in the limb, and the flinch when he cleaned out any debris, aware that in this climate it was not wise to leave any wound untreated for too long. As gently as he could, he completed the cleaning and sprinkled an antibiotic powder into the wound. He bound it carefully and then sat back to admire his handiwork before smiling up at McKay, waiting for a response.

"Um...thanks."

John let his smile widen a little at the way McKay could barely meet his eyes, finding the slight pink of his cheeks and his obvious embarrassment almost endearing.

"Any other boo-boos you want me to fix?"

The flush deepened a fraction and John frowned as McKay raised a finger with the tiniest of scratches on it. John held the hand by the wrist gently and swiped the tiny cut with an antiseptic wipe before putting a Band-Aid over it. He lifted the hand and leaned in, kissing the tip of the finger, eyes searching McKay's for an explosive reaction. He smiled when McKay's eyes widened but, otherwise, the man gave no sign of being offended by the intimacy. Perhaps, when they got out of this mess, he'd make a stronger approach and see if McKay was interested in a lot more intimacy but, for now, he figured his next move ought to be a grab for the radio. He sat back in his seat and keyed the radio.

"Mayday, Mayday. This is Oscar Tango dash two zero four. Do you read, over."

He tried a few more times, smiling at McKay who was watching him closely, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and worried.

"Mayday, Mayday. This is Oscar Tango dash two zero four. Do you read, over."

In truth, John wasn't even getting static let alone a response but he didn't want to set McKay off on another panic attack by telling him the radio was dead.

"It's dead, isn't it?"

"Nah, we're just a little further out of range--"

McKay pointed to the radio panel and John ducked his head round to see, his reassuring smile fading when he saw the massive hole with exposed innards that had been invisible from his former position.

"I'm sure we can fix it."

"With what?"

"Look. There must have been a... base of operations around here some place. What do you bet they left some equipment hanging around that we can cannibalize."

McKay had taken on that stubborn look again. "Velociraptor territory," he stated implacably. "Didn't you ever read Malcolm's book?"

"Malcolm?"

"Dr. Ian Malcolm? The man who barely escaped from this island without becoming a velociraptor meal?"

"Okay, so maybe we make for the beach and wave down a passing yacht."

McKay looked aghast. "My God! You have no idea how much trouble we are in right now." He shook his head. "No one comes here! Not since that little girl got attacked on the beach." He clicked his fingers rapidly. "The airstrip!" John watched a pick tongue slide across McKay's lips as the man frowned. "There has to be a radio tower... and if Dr. Grant is still here then they probably came by plane." Bright eyes stared into his again, almost willing him to agree, but John did not require a lot of convincing. He glanced out of the cockpit window. The sun was barely clearing the top of the trees and he doubted it was a good idea to be caught outside as night fell as most predators hunted at dusk and dawn.

"We'll stay here tonight. Start out in the morning."

"Yes, yes. Good idea." McKay was staring out the window again. "Um... How secure is..." He was glancing into the back area and John took the hint, climbing back to check on the structure and doors but all was secure with no visible holes.

"I don't think we'll find anyplace safer for tonight."

"No. I guess not."

"Come on." John grabbed McKay by his elbow and drew him into the slightly larger rear cabin. There wasn't quite enough room to stretch out but McKay could curl up across the three rear seats while John made a not so comfortable bed on the floor in front of him. He saw the grimace but it was the best they could do under the circumstances, especially as it would get dark quickly once the sun dipped below the top of the forest canopy. It was also going to get a little cooler as night fell, though John hoped the temperature would stay at a comfortable level. All of McKay's equipment was in the back, in the carriage space but McKay grabbed the rucksack he'd placed in this rear seating area, digging through it and bringing out a few sandwiches and some fruit. John waited to see what he would do, noticing the momentary hesitation before, with a sigh, McKay handed over one of the sandwiches. John accepted it with a hidden smile as McKay mumbled in irritation, no doubt resenting his generosity. What John didn't bother to mention was that he had a small supply of dried foods for camping trips and emergencies that McKay would probably appreciate tomorrow.

Darkness fell quickly, and when a hand casually dropped over the edge of the seat and rested on his shoulder, John did not bother to shrug it off. He needed the human contact too.

****

With morning came the strange cries of exotic creatures but it was the scrabbling over the metal that brought Rodney awake with a start.

"Oh no."

"Yeah," came a disembodied voice from lower down. "It's real...not a nightmare."

More scrabbling brought Rodney's head around and he flinched backwards as something stared in through the window, its huge eye watching him with curiosity. Rodney let out a shaky breath as the immense head grabbed the branch beside the helicopter's fusilage and pulled back but his relief was short lived as the whole tree vibrated alongside the cracking of branches. He turned to Sheppard only to meet eyes widened in concern. Another crack and the helicopter shifted.

"Make it stop!"

"What?!" Sheppard looked to him in disbelief and even Rodney could see the stupidity in asking Sheppard to try to stop the massive brachiosaurus from pushing them out of the tree.

He cried out as the whole thing shifted again, dropping maybe ten feet, fingers scratching for purchase against the worn leather interior seats. Rodney fell, the breath knocked out of him momentarily by one of Sheppard's bony knees. He felt arms grabbing him, holding him tight as the helicopter dropped again, its nose dipping until the helicopter was almost vertical and pointing down, leaving him pressing John into the backs of the pilot and front passenger seats. He yelled, refusing to admit that he was screaming into Sheppard's neck, as branches cracked beneath them, his fingers tightening around Sheppard even as Sheppard's hand clenched around his uninjured arm with bruising force. Unable to tear his eyes away from his unobstructed view straight through the cockpit's front window and down to the ground below, Rodney screamed again in terror as, suddenly, the jungle floor was coming up way too fast. Seemingly at the last second, the helicopter lurched to a halt a mere ten feet off the ground.

"Mc...Kay?"

Rodney froze in place, terrified to move or even to breath.

"McKay?!" He felt Sheppard pushing at him and Rodney lowered his eyes away from the still terrifying sight, aware of wet warmth on his leg. His eyes met Sheppard's and slid away quickly as Rodney flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, in a tiny voice. "I think I wet myself."

Sheppard grimaced slightly. "So how about you get off me then, buddy."

"Oh...yes." It took a few attempts to gain enough purchase to move off of Sheppard and, embarrassing as the situation was, Rodney felt the loss of Sheppard's body pressed close to his quite keenly.

Carefully, Sheppard opened the side door, wincing as gravity took it and the helicopter vibrated from the redistribution of weight.

"Okay, so we're still in the tree, about ten feet from the ground. Climb down and I'll drop down the stuff we'll need for the hike to the airstrip."

"What if there's something down there?"

"Something?"

"With teeth."

"Okay," Sheppard drawled, stretching out the word. "As we don't have a choice about staying in here. How about we drop what we need and then I'll climb down and watch for danger while you climb down?"

Rodney blinked and then scrubbed a hand over his face but he couldn't think of a better plan. He nodded, feeling extremely weary as the initial adrenaline rush ebbed. Another creak of a branch had Rodney freezing and he thought, for a moment, that the brachiosaurus was still grazing on the tree but he could see no sign of it now, aware that it was probably frightened off by the sound of the helicopter falling.

Sheppard pulled a weird face. "Let's make this quick." He began opening up compartments and pulling out various pieces of equipment, throwing them out the door to land in the thick vegetation safely, a little distance from the stricken helicopter.

Rodney grabbed what luggage he had in the rear seating compartment and passed it to Sheppard, watching with dismay as it was dropped the ten feet to the ground with an audible thud.

"That everything?" Sheppard asked and Rodney nodded.

"How are you...?" Rodney indicated towards the outside and the ground below.

"We climb."

"Don't you have a rope? Or something...?"

"It's only ten feet, McKay. Didn't you ever climb trees as a kid?"

"I'm....not so good with heights."

"Really?"

Rodney bristled at the heavy sarcasm but then Sheppard wasn't the one staring a gravity crushing death right in the face only a short time ago. He bristled some more as Sheppard wrinkled up his nose.

"Hope you've got spare pants, McKay."

He poked a finger in Sheppard's chest. "Let's just hope we don't come face-to-face with a velociraptor or a T-Rex, or you'll be needing spare pants too," he snarled. Sheppard gave him a tight smile, slipped a hand gun into the waistband of his pants, and then climbed out of the helicopter, swinging down easily like a monkey. He landed lightly, drawing the gun and checking around before looking up to Rodney. Gingerly, Rodney tested the branch just outside the door and crawled out onto it, easing himself along until he could see a way to lower himself down onto a lower branch. He slipped but caught himself before he fell. Shakily, he clambered down, flinching when he felt something grab his ass but it was Sheppard.

"Damn it, McKay." Sheppard's strained voice was accompanied by a grunt of exertion as Rodney fell the final few feet to the ground, landing on top of Sheppard in a graceless heap, bodies pressed chest to chest and with Sheppard's arms wrapped around his waist. He was shoved to the side. "But at least we're out of the helicopter now." Rodney sat up and watched as Sheppard pushed to his feet and dusted down his clothes before grabbing Rodney's backpack and throwing it at him. "You should change those pants before they attract something...with teeth."

****

For someone who was terrified of being eaten alive, Rodney seemed to forget all about danger when it came to modesty. He knew his eyebrows had crept up into his head when McKay disappeared around the large tree, face once more flushed in embarrassment. John sighed and followed, keeping the man in sight covertly, just in case one of his monsters did leap out of the undergrowth and tried to make a meal of him. He watched as McKay stripped off his wet pants, feeling a mixture of mirth and sympathy for the man that swiftly turned to a different kind of interest when he really took note of the strong pale legs and the sweet curve of McKay's ass as he bent over to pull on the fresh pants. He didn't think he'd made a noise but maybe McKay was a little more on edge than John believed because he turned suddenly, staring straight at John, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing in annoyance.

McKay stalked towards him. "Were you watching me undress?" he hissed, nose twitching as he all but called John a pervert.

"You're the one who was worried about having someone watch your back."

"I..."

John wished he had not said anything as it simply reminded the frightened man that there could be danger lurking all around them. "Come on. Let's get moving while we have a full day ahead of us."

John returned to the equipment and quickly separated it into three piles; one for him to carry, one for McKay and the final pile to be left behind as an unnecessary burden.

"Wait! What...? You can't leave that behind." McKay pointed at the heavy case. "It's a highly expensive digital camera with zoom lenses and... It cost me a small fortune."

"And it will cost you your life if you try to carry that hefty case alongside all this."

"All this? Wait. What is all this?"

"Rope, a two-man tent...food?"

"Food? You have food in there?"

"Later. I want us to get some place a little safer before we stop to eat."

"Why can't we stay here and eat first? We spent all night here so it has to be relatively safe."

"Because it's a little too quiet here, as if..."

"As if there might be something dangerous lurking close by?"

McKay swallowed hard and John grimaced because that was exactly what he meant. McKay thought John was a big game hunter and he had lied by omission in not revealing that his African hunting experience was really limited to driving across the Serengeti in a Landrover, armed with a camera rather than a gun, or following a herd of wildebeest in a helicopter before he decided to herd tourists instead and headed back to the States and the big national parks like Yosemite. Admittedly, it took a lot of skill to track down the animals he wanted to photograph. He could read the trail of a big cat pretty good most anywhere across the world but no one knew enough about the creatures living here. It was all conjecture, all theories and dry studies of bones dug up from the ground. He had little idea of how most of the dinosaur predators hunted, solitary or in packs. Well, except for the velociraptors. He knew they hunted in packs because McKay had told him all about Grant's book that had been published following the events in San Diego where InGen captured a T-Rex and its infant and took them to the States with the intention of setting up some kind of zoo for dinosaurs.

In hindsight, he wished he'd picked up a copy of either Alan Grant or Ian Malcolm's books but he'd made a personal promise not to start reading another book until he had finished _War and Peace_. That book was going in the pile of things to leave behind for the same reason as McKay's expensive photography equipment; it was too heavy and bulky to carry. He snorted softly as he ran a finger across the spine before dropping the heavy tome on the useless pile. Unless he wanted to try to bore the velociraptors to death by reading it to them, it would take up space and weight that could be utilized by more important equipment like spare radio parts, and the medical kit.

John finished packing McKay's backpack and handed it over, watching as the man struggled into it before stepping forward to adjust the straps. McKay let him, standing still and watching him carefully, his mouth tilted downwards in one corner, making him look so lost and vulnerable. He couldn't resist, his palm fitting perfectly as it cupped McKay's face. After a moment's hesitation, McKay leaned into his hand, some of the fear leaving his deep blue eyes. He leaned in to kiss the slightly parted lips but tensed instead at the loud crack sounding above them.

"Let's get going."

John hefted his own pack and started off into the undergrowth.

"Wait!"

He turned, puzzled as McKay pointed in a slightly different direction.

"Um...Isn't the airstrip that way?"

John frowned. He wasn't as good at taking his bearings on the ground as in the air. "Just wanted to make a wide berth around...that." He pointed up at the helicopter that seemed as if it was suspended in the tree, its back rotor caught between a V in the branches higher up though John knew it wouldn't take that much more before it fell completely.

"Oh...Okay."

Taking a deep breath, John took a few more steps along his original path and then veered in the direction McKay had indicated, only part of him listening to McKay's footsteps behind him while he stretched the rest of his senses out into the jungle surrounding them. A crash behind them made him flinch and he tightened his lips, aware that they had nothing to go back to now. The helicopter was probably only so much crushed metal junk on the jungle floor by now.

****

"I've got to stop!"

Rodney leaned against a tree, breathing heavily from the exertion of the past three hours. He was certain he could not go another step without falling flat on his face. He wriggled uncomfortably at the awful sensation of sweat trickling down his back and chest, of the roughness of his clothing against his sweaty, heat prickled skin. He looked up into the sky and judged that they must be close to the hottest part of the day with the sun high in the sky. When he looked back down, he caught Sheppard watching him, the grim line of his mouth making Rodney feel both angry and defensive. He just wasn't built for long treks through the jungle. He hadn't intended on them staying a single night on this godforsaken island let alone re-enacting the Burma death march through the jungle.

Ahead was a massive clearing. He could see the tree line some distance ahead with nothing but tall meadow-type grass in between and figured it would take them about half an hour to cross it at most, less if he had a chance to rest up first. The airstrip lay maybe a day's walk straight ahead of them.

Sheppard was staring across the clearing too, his lips tightening further. "Okay, we rest up here for an hour; let the sun pass overhead before we go on."

"Thank you," Rodney whispered in heart-felt relief and dropped the heavy pack from his shoulders before slumping down onto the thick bough of a toppled tree. He was so tired that he barely found the energy to wonder how or why the tree had fallen until he looked back and noticed a vague trail of destruction, as if something large had run through this very spot and out into the clearing beyond.

Sheppard had picked up the pace after hearing the death knell of the helicopter, wanting to put more distance between them and it in case something non-human came to investigate, something with teeth and yet, breakfast still seemed like an eternity ago, eaten cold in the boughs of a tall tree some distance away from the crash site. He watched as Sheppard dug into his pockets, eyes narrowing as the man pulled out a PowerBar. Sheppard tore the bar in half and offered one half to Rodney; he ate it in two large bites, barely stopping to chew, and then stared as Sheppard ate his half with a little more decorum.

"I don't suppose you have more...?" Rodney waved his hand towards the pockets in Sheppard's jacket.

"No...and this is not a great place to stop for too long."

"Right." Rodney took a breath. "The airstrip is straight ahead." He pointed across the clearing to the distant trees. "We could be there before the sun sets tomorrow."

"We're not crossing here."

"What? But the airstrip...?"

"We'll go round the edge and look for a safer place to cross."

"But...But it could take us four, five times as long to go around..." He looked along the clearing in both directions, realizing it was more of a game trail than an actual clearing, "Perhaps days..."

"We're not heading into the long grass, McKay."

"Why?"

Sheppard looked exasperated. "You really don't know that much about predators, do you?"

Rodney pulled himself up. "Of course I know... Oh."

"Yeah. Predators hunt on game trails...and they hide in the long grass."

"Um...You don't suppose?" He glanced back into the jungle along the trail of destruction.

"Yeah, which is why we're not staying here, so...let's move it, McKay."

Suddenly, Rodney didn't feel quite so tired. "Right!"

The brief respite and another dose of fear left him energized for a while but Rodney found his energy depleting rapidly as they trekked through the undergrowth, staying just behind the line of trees where they would remain invisible to anything hiding out in the long grass. This time, Rodney made no fuss as the hours passed, measured by the sun tracking across the sky. Sheppard had already explained why they had to ration what little food they carried, because he didn't want to resort to hunting and trapping in case the blood of the kill attracted a larger predator. Unfortunately, it made sense and, as much as he hated to admit it, he could survive on a couple of skipped meals though not on a lack of water.

As they walked, Rodney unclipped his canteen and took another swig, washing the tepid water around his mouth to ease the dryness before swallowing. He knew they'd have to find another source of water soon because his canteen was almost empty and he could bet that Sheppard's was not far behind. At least he'd had the sense to carry purification tablets on him despite having no intention, originally, of camping out on the island. Paranoia had forced him to keep the tablets upon him after leaving civilization and boarding that first plane what seemed like an eternity ago now.

He was beyond exhausted by the time Sheppard stopped and he watched as Sheppard's eyes swept the area, gaze stopping on a particularly large tree. To Rodney's inexperienced eye, it seemed unclimbable but Sheppard had other ideas. He moved to it quickly and Rodney followed, tired but curious nonetheless. Sheppard dropped his pack to the ground and dug through it until he had the thin but strong rope. He put it over his shoulder and began to climb; Rodney flinched every time Sheppard seemed to lose his footing but, after a few minutes, he reached the top of the main truck where the branches spread out. The rope came down, almost hitting Rodney on the head.

"Tie my pack to the rope."

Rodney understood immediately and tied it in a knot that could be untied easily with a single pull, watching as Sheppard hauled it up. His own pack followed, leaving Rodney feeling strangely vulnerable and alone on the jungle floor.

"Okay...Tie the rope loosely around your waist and start climbing."

"What? Up there?"

"McKay...Rodney." His eyes flicked away, any trace of emotion on his face dropping away as his lips flattened. "I need you start climbing now."

"What?" Rodney flicked a look over his shoulder, seeing nothing. "Why?"

"Because the sun is going down and it's going to be dark soon."

"Oh! Okay. Fine. I'm..." He took a deep breath and found the first decent hand and foothold, pushing himself up, feeling Sheppard take some of the strain of Rodney's body weight. "Did I mention that I'm not very good at climbing trees?"

"Yeah, but I need you to climb a bit faster, Rodney."

Rodney froze. "You called me Rodney...Twice."

"Well, it is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but..."

"Rodney? Climb the damn tree. Now!"

Rodney grumbled and found a few more hand and footholds, making slow progress as he searched for another, wishing he'd taken note of how Sheppard had climbed but he decided the man had to be part-monkey. He slipped, crying out in a whimper as Sheppard took all of his weight for a moment, hearing the harsh whisper as Sheppard told him where to find a good foothold to take the strain off. As Rodney reached the top, Sheppard grabbed his injured arm and hauled Rodney up the rest of the way but some sixth sense made Rodney bite back on the pain. He slumped down next to Sheppard and whispered harshly, "Did you have to grab my bad arm so hard?"

Sheppard didn't seem to be paying him much attention. Instead he was looking out into the slowly darkening jungle. "Yeah...I did," he whispered and only then did it register that Sheppard had kept his voice low throughout the climb.

Rodney looked in the same direction as Sheppard, squinting as he sought out the slightly darker shadows and freezing when he saw it. The gray, almost reptilian head was unmistakable and a series of short barks confirmed his worst fear.

"Velociraptor!" he breathed.

Sheppard's palm wrapped over Rodney's mouth as the predator came closer, sniffing at the undergrowth as if hunting. Its head cocked to one side as if in puzzlement, sniffing and scratching around the base of the tree where they sat hidden within a veil of smaller branches and leaves. A series of distant barks had it raising its head, mouth opening to reveal razor sharp teeth. It barked a response and ran off fast, heading back towards the long grass within the clearing.

Rodney sagged back against Sheppard, the hand dropping from his mouth, arms wrapping around his chest as Sheppard drew him even closer. He could feel Sheppard's warm breath against the side of his neck, could feel the rasp of a two-day growth of bristles against his own bristled cheek and Rodney closed his eyes, letting his head drop back against Sheppard.

When the first stars appeared, Rodney stared up into the unpolluted sky, seeing the beauty of the universe unfolding, and he wondered what his life might have been like if his dad had bought him the telescope and radio kit rather than the paleontologist's kit as a child. He laughed softly and almost jumped when he heard the low voice close to his ear.

"What is it?"

Rodney turned his head slightly and then sighed, nestling back against Sheppard, who had propped both bags behind him to use as a makeshift pillow. Despite that, Rodney was certain he had the better deal, his body relaxing into the heat of Sheppard's body.

"When I was a child, I wanted to be astrophysicist. I was just wondering where I'd be right now if I'd followed that path."

Sheppard snorted softly. "Probably in some musty laboratory surrounded by geeks who never saw daylight from one week to the next."

Rodney had to smile at the image, knowing he had a propensity for spending hours upon hours in front of his laptop, working on his theories before taking those theories out into the field. He been on a few important digs across the world. He'd even taken a contract with the US military once, working alongside some specialists in other fields as they mapped the ancient ruins of the strangest temple Rodney had ever seen, a beautiful interior of lattice work in some very unusual stones and metals. Archeology was his second love and he excelled in both fields, perhaps more so in archeology though he hated to admit that. He closed his eyes, bringing forth an image of Daniel Jackson, the leading archaeologist, and some colonel....John? No, Jack....Jack O'Neill. They'd wanted him to join some expedition that required a nondisclosure agreement before they would even talk about it, and in hindsight, he wondered if he ought to have said yes, but the fear of stepping into the unknown had stopped him from signing. Perhaps he should look up Jackson or O'Neill if he ever got off this island alive, see if the job offer was still open because he had a feeling that if he did survive this then he could survive anything they cared to throw at him.

"What about you?"

"Hmm?"

"Where was the fork in the road?"

The silence lengthened and Rodney felt strangely disappointed when it seemed that Sheppard was not going to answer. He straightened a fraction within Sheppard's comfortable embrace when Sheppard finally answered.

"I...made a mistake and had the choice of ferrying scientists around in Antarctica, or leaving the military altogether."

"You were military? Huh!" It seemed strangely right somehow. "I guess you chose the latter."

"Yeah."

"Least it's not freezing here."

"I thought you Canadian types liked the cold."

"I'm sorry I don't follow your typical Canadian stereotype."

"Well, you got the 'sorry' in there," Sheppard drawled, then laughed softly as Rodney tried to turn and glare at him.

Arms tightened around him, reminding him that he was not alone, and he thought he felt Sheppard nuzzling against his neck as he slowly dropped to the edge of sleep, unable to keep his eyes open even with hunger gnawing at his belly. It felt good but he was too tired to take it any further and slipped quickly into sleep.

****

John awoke feeling well rested despite the less than comfortable surroundings and he attributed both the discomfort and the restful sleep to the same source. Rodney McKay was still lying encircled within John's arms, his head tipped back, supported on John's shoulder, warm breath coming slow and deep. His lips were parted and John grinned at the drool drying in one corner. McKay...*Rodney* was strangely endearing despite his more abrasive qualities and John wondered if the man's vulnerability was partly to blame. He could tell that Rodney had never really left civilization behind before. Perhaps he had attended digs in different parts of the world but John would bet what few possession he had left that Rodney had lived in tents or trailers, and sat around camp fires eating hot food and drinking coffee, surrounded by radios and other electronic equipment. He doubted Rodney had ever slept rough in his entire life, or gone more than a day without a hot meal through necessity rather than by choice, and he doubted the man had ever been this scared in his life before.

In truth, John was a little anxious too, and for good reason. They had yet to find a place where they could cross the game trail without ending up as a meal for a hungry predator and, from what he had seen yesterday of the gray, bipedal dinosaur that Rodney confirmed was a velociraptor, they had no way of outrunning the creature. It was not going to be a simple matter of making a dash for it when they found a narrower section. These creatures worked in packs and were built to out pace their prey and take it down hard with sharp claws and teeth. They made a hungry lion look like a pussycat in comparison.

Staring into the sky, he noticed that the sun would be up in a few more minutes, the horizon already lightening. He tightened his hold on Rodney and let the man sleep on for a little longer, aware of how exhausted Rodney had been the night before. Adrenaline had that effect on a person, and Rodney had been running on adrenaline for far too long yesterday, though John would probably never admit that he admired the man's determination to keep going. Rodney wriggled in his arms and John felt the first coil of want tightening in his body, wondering how much of the imperative to mate was a biological urge brought on by fear of impending death. All John knew was that he wanted Rodney in a way he hadn't allowed himself to want anyone in years; at least not since he'd lost Mitch.

He let one hand trail up the sleep-warmed body, feeling the pulse point on Rodney's throat and savoring the strong beat beneath his fingertips. Rodney moved again, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out as a sigh as he burrowed deeper, pushing his face against John's hand when John reached up to cup his jaw. Long, sandy-colored eyelashes batted as Rodney awoke, staring bleary-eyed at John. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean in and press his lips to Rodney's, and even the sour taste of morning breath could not detract from the sweetness of this first kiss and the promise held within.

Rodney froze for a moment and then half turned in his arms, hand cupping John's face in return, his fingers sliding into John's hair and tugging gently as the kiss deepened, lips parting as tongues met tentatively, tasting stale PowerBar and saliva, and little else. John pulled back and stared deep into desire-softened blue eyes, curious when Rodney drew away a fraction before turning completely, kneeling between John's spread legs. The blue eyes dipped to John's crotch before flicking back up, and John nodded when he realized what Rodney was asking of him, unresisting as strong, agile fingers worked open John's pants and freed his half-hard erection. His head thumped back against the thick tree branch as Rodney's hot mouth engulfed him, one hand wrapped at the base of his shaft, working him slowly as Rodney licked and sucked, bringing him fully hard. He gave a small wordless cry when Rodney pulled off when he was so close to coming, breath stuttering when Rodney opened his own pants and pushed them down along with his boxers to his ankles, kicking off one boot so he could free at least one leg from the restricting material. A tube of scent-free sunscreen was pulled from one of his jacket pockets, and Rodney squirted a generous amount on his fingers before easing those fingers inside his body, preparing himself. It was the hottest thing John had ever seen, watching Rodney writhing on his own fingers, fucking himself deeply, eyes heavy lidded yet focused on him, and breaths coming in harsh pants of pleasure. He stopped and balancing carefully on the large natural platform formed between the thick branches, he clumsily straddled John's thighs and lowered himself onto his lap, guiding the head of John's cock between his ass cheeks to the loosened hole. They groaned softly in unison as John breached his body; Rodney sank down onto John with a blissful expression.

John didn't bother to ask why he was letting him fuck him halfway up a tree in a jungle filled with flesh-eating dinosaurs for the question itself held most of the answer. Instead, he gripped Rodney's hips, holding him still even as Rodney grasped John's shoulders for balance. He watched strong thigh muscles flex as Rodney rose a fraction, feeling the incredible sensation of his cock sliding within the tight, slicked channel, gripped by velvet heat. The pace was slow and incredibly gentle, like nothing John had experienced before. Always, with Mitch, it had been fast and hard, as if desperate to feel the rush and get the sex over with.

The small thrusts sent shock waves of pleasure through John, the building climax ebbing over him so slowly it was like drowning in molasses, sweet and heavy, his senses spiraling with the intense pleasure rippling through his body. At some point, one of his hands must have worked its way between them to grasp Rodney's cock, jerking him in perfect time, and even as John floated back to Earth, he felt the first pulse of Rodney's release over his busy fingers, felt ass muscles flexing hard around his softening cock, sending tiny echoes of pleasure coursing through him until Rodney collapsed forward, burying his face against John's neck as he rode out his orgasm.

Afterwards, the weight of Rodney's body became a little too much and, with great care, he eased his lover to one side, dragging a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe up the mess they had made. He watched as Rodney dressed in silence, straightening his clothing and fastening his pants before replacing his discarded boot. His fingers were trembling from the aftermath of his orgasm so John leaned in and laced up the boot before dragging Rodney back down for a deep and dirty kiss.

When he let go, Rodney gave him that now familiar crooked smile, still saying nothing, which seemed so out of place on the normally loquacious man.

"I...I just wanted to....One last time, in case we don't..."

John reached across and gripped his arm forcefully. "We're gonna make it, Rodney." But Rodney shook him off.

"No. You can't promise that. Of the last group of men who landed here, eighteen were slaughtered by...by a T-Rex or a velociraptor or some other predator. Eighteen out of twenty-eight people, and yes, I should have remembered about the long grass because most of those men lost their lives out there. And now...now we know for certain that they are hiding out there."

John let his hand drop, listening to Rodney's heavy breathing, brought on by his agitated state.

"That's less than a fifty percent survival rate...and we both know I'm not as fit and I can't climb trees and..."

This time John reached forward and dragged Rodney into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. "Those others didn't have me protecting them," he whispered harshly. Rodney sagged against him before reaching around and hugging him back. John heard him murmur softly, closing his eyes in bitter acceptance as he registered the words.

"We have to cross the game trail some time."

"I know."

Rodney gave a single harsh sob into his neck. "You know...I'm more an archaeologist than a paleontologist. I mean, I know a lot about unearthing the past in both fields but I should have stuck with the ancient civilizations because I'm not that good with animals, except my cat of course. Although I might have been good with dogs too if mine hadn't run away when I was a kid--"

John stopped the flow of words with a gentle shake. "Hey...it's okay."

He gave him another firm squeeze and then released Rodney, reaching around for his pack, and drawing out two pouched meals. John handed one to his new lover and then tore into his own, grimacing as he spooned the cold mess into his mouth. He wished they could have built a fire and set the boil-in-a-bag meals in hot water to heat but they could not take a chance on the aroma of a hot meal attracting the velociraptors or another predator. Rodney dug into his own meal like a starving man.

"Slow down," John murmured, grabbing Rodney's forearm. "Or you'll be sick."

Rodney frowned at him but he did at least obey, slowing his eating and licking the spoon thoroughly between each mouthful in such a sinful way that John felt his cock twitch in remembrance of those lips wrapped around it. Some how, they had to make it across the game trail to the relative safety of the trees beyond, if only so he could feel those lips around his cock again, though next time he wanted to come in that luscious mouth and feel Rodney drink every drop.

****

Rodney rubbed his sweaty hands over his thighs as he stared across the narrow gap between the trees. They had been walking for most of the morning and this was the best crossing place that they had seen yet, except most predator would know to wait at a potential bottleneck site where the herd was forced to slow down, making them an easier target. Nothing stirred in the grass ahead of them but Rodney could sense something was out there, waiting.

John drew him further back into the trees, away from the edge of the game trail, and pulled off his pack, gesturing Rodney to do the same. He started to pull out the contents, staring at each item for a moment before placing it on one of two piles. Tearing into the lightweight tent, John extracted the ground sheet, dropping it on one pile while the tent went on the other. He gave a wry grin.

"Figure we're safer in a tree than on the ground."

Rodney nodded, knowing they could always rig something with the ground sheet if the weather turned nasty. When he picked up his pack, it was a lot lighter with just the bare minimum needed to survive stowed away and the rest discarded. He understood why, aware that the extra weight on his back could mean the difference between life and death in the next half an hour.

"So, we're gonna cross here?"

John nodded. "Yeah."

The sound of thunder brought both of them looking to the clear blue sky, confused, until Rodney realized it was the ground trembling. He looked to John and they raced back to the edge of the game trail in time to see a herd of graceful ostrich-like creatures running towards the bottleneck.

"Gallimimus Bullatus. Grant mentioned them in his book. See the way they veer, flocking like birds evading a predator."

"Yeah...but more importantly, they're coming this way."

"Exactly! They'll have to bunch up to get through this narrow section. If the velociraptors are here then they'll be on the other side of the bottleneck where they won't get trampled, waiting to pick off those on the flanks, and stragglers, which means..." He grinned at John.

"Which means we start running as soon as the main bulk of the herd passes by."

Rodney swallowed and gave a short laugh. "See you on the other side?"

"Hell, Rodney. We're sticking together!"

They moved to the edge of the game trail, and Rodney could already feel his heart racing as the tension mounted. John's hand was gripping his arm again and then it slid down until they were holding hands, fingers interlocking.

"Ready?" John asked.

Rodney nodded rapidly. "As I'll ever be." He took deeper breaths, trying to steady his nerves as the majority of the flock thundered by.

"GO!"

John tugged and they both started running, hearing the screams as the velociraptors attacked the gallimimus, His heart was in his throat as he ran, terror giving extra energy to muscle. A straggler gallimimus clipped him, tearing him from John's grasp, and he and the gallimimus both went down. As he scrabbled to find his feet, terrified when he slipped back onto one knee on the damp earth, a gray shape lunged out of the grass, jumping right over the top of him, its curved claws sinking into the gallimimus not four feet away, the ostrich-like creature screaming its agony as both predator and prey rolled further away. Barely withholding a scream of his own as something grabbed at him, relief flooding through him as John hauled him to his feet. Then they were running again, breaking through the tree line and not slowing until they had left the game trail far behind.

Rodney fell against a tree, legs turning to jell-o, muscles shaking from both exhaustion and terror combined. He felt John's arm slide around his shoulders and leaned his head back against him, welcoming the roughness of bristles against his face that proved he was still alive. John squeezed tighter, pressing his face against Rodney's cheek.

"Thought I'd lost you," he stated roughly. "Don't do that again."

"Believe me, I have no intention of doing that again... Ever."

John huffed a laugh against the side of Rodney's neck before pressing a kiss to the gradually slowing pulse and then pulling away. He brushed away some of the damp earth still clinging to Rodney from his fall before standing back and appraising him.

"Come on. I want to put a lot more distance between us and them before nightfall."

Rodney looked back along their trail and nodded, taking a moment to get his bearings from the small compass he pulled out of his pocket before indicating the direction they should travel. John sighed, shaking his head slightly, and started walking, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile just to make sure Rodney was following. Rodney pushed the compass back into his pocket and took several hurried steps to catch up, stupidly afraid of being left behind even though he knew that would never happen. John had already come back for him once after all.

They walked for hours, taking occasional breaks for just a few minutes at a time to catch their breath and share what little food remained. By late afternoon, Rodney noticed John glancing upwards more often, searching for somewhere they could stop for the night and Rodney resigned himself to the embarrassment of trying to climb another tree with John's help, though hopefully, this time there would be no velociraptor almost sniffing at his heels.

They settled down as before, clinging to each other as the air grew colder with the setting sun, too tired to share more than a few gentle kisses and caresses before sleep overtook them. It started to rain during the night, and John pulled out the ground sheet, quickly setting it up as a makeshift shelter with Rodney's help, tying it to the branches fanning out above them. He pulled Rodney back into his arms and they shivered together, trying to warm each other as the rain brought a colder chill to the air.

****

John stood on the ridge and looked across the valley, seeing the overgrown airstrip far below. He reckoned it would take them a few more hours to reach it, though they would have to be careful as last night's rain had left the earth damp, and possibly treacherous underfoot in places. A glint of sunlight off metal caught his eye as he looked along the path they needed to take, trying to assess the lay of the land before they were back beneath the canopy of trees.

"What's that?" Rodney had spotted it too, his finger pointing to a noticeable path of destruction from the end of the runway and into the trees, passing through the area where the metal had glinted momentarily. To John's aviator eyes, it looked like the wing of a plane and he suspected that the rest of the plane lay spread out over a few miles.

"You want to check it out?" He teased.

Rodney's blue eyes widened, mouth drooping in dismay, probably at the thought of taking a detour when they were so close to reaching their goal. John regretted his words instantly because Rodney had been through too much to be teased while they were still in danger especially as he had no intention of investigating anything other than the control tower and buildings, wanting to get them off this island as soon as possible.

"Maybe another time then."

"I can state categorically that no force on heaven or earth will get me to come back here."

John slapped Rodney on the shoulder. "Me either, buddy. Come on. We could be at the control tower by mid-afternoon."

The sides of the valley were steep and John found they had to slide down on their ass over some of the steeper slopes, holding onto tree roots to stop them from plunging headlong into the valley. Neither could afford any more injuries, especially broken bones. At least the gash on Rodney's arm had not become infected. He had checked it several times since they started out, cleaning the area and dusting it with more of the antibiotic powder before wrapping it in fresh bandages and burying the dirty ones deep.

The rain during the previous night had turned the earth to mud in places, and John barely caught himself from slipping, sliding several feet before he caught the root of a large shrub. He noticed that the ground evened out again a few feet below so he would not have fallen far but it still paid to be cautious. He checked up the slope to where Rodney was making his way down carefully, and settled on a larger tree root to wait.

A birdlike chittering noise had him tensing and he flinched as small dinosaur, maybe three feet tall, peered through the undergrowth head of him. It cocked its head to one side and gave that same birdlike call, jumping forward a couple of feet as if inquisitive. John narrowed his eyes at the creature but it didn't seem at all threatening, just stared at him oddly.

"So, little fella, what are you then?"

John jumped back when a large chunk of branch hurtled towards the creature, smashing into the trunk of the young tree close to the dinosaur and splintering. Another lump of a branch followed.

"Get away from him!" Rodney was snarling and it took a moment before he realized that Rodney was talking to the creature, acting like a madman as he hurtled more pieces of wood that had the creature jumping sideways but not fleeing.

"Rodney?"

He looked back at the dinosaur as it hissed, sharp teeth bared and two brilliantly colored fringes fanning out from around its neck. It spat at him, the gooey black substance hitting the top of John's pants as he jumped up in shock, aware that if he had stayed seated then it would have hit his face instead. The barrage of sticks rained down harder and John took the hint, adding his own firepower as he hefted a large branch and swiped at the creature, smacking it good and hard around the head. Its hiss turned to a pained cry and it dashed off into the jungle, leaving John standing there still brandishing the branch as a weapon. A crack of breaking roots and torn shrubs heralded Rodney's arrival and he gave his lover a quick once over.

"What the hell was that?"

"Dilophosaurus... and that was just a baby." Rodney stared off into the jungle.

"That was a baby?"

"What say we keep moving in case its parents are around here some place?"

"Yeah, that might not be such a bad idea."

John kept a hold of the branch as they made their way across the gentler slope to the edge of another steeper one but John could see that they had almost reached the bottom of the valley. He sniffed and went to touch the black goo coating his pants but Rodney's hand gripped his wrist.

"I wouldn't if I were you. Its saliva is supposed to be both a poison and a paralyzing agent." He swallowed. "The thing is, it prefers to eat you while you're still alive."

"First chance I get, I'm changing into *my* spare pants." He smirked at Rodney, pleased when the fear faded from Rodney's eyes. Rodney grinned back as they both recalled his angry words a few days back, at how John might need a spare pants if he came across one of this island's predators.

The rest of the trek through the jungle passed quickly and without incident though John made Rodney stop at the edge of the buildings, wanting to check for danger lurking within before calling Rodney forward. The hangar had been gutted, with nothing remaining but a few parts of planes and abandoned airport vehicles. He turned to call Rodney and frowned in annoyance when he discovered the man only ten feet away.

"Thought I told you to wait outside," he grated in a low voice.

"I'm sure I'd be safer in here with you than out there..."

"Alone?" John grimaced. Rodney had been so brave fighting off the dilophosaurus that John had forgotten how scared he was the rest of the time. "Let's head for the control tower. Maybe there's something left."

They took it slow, watching the shadows for anything out of place before entering the control tower and climbing the stairs. Much of the glass overlooking the runway was broken from the outside, with slivers lying on top of control panels. Being careful to avoid cutting himself, John made his way to the radio and flipped the switch, unsurprised when it remained dead. He set down his bag and pulled out the parts he had scavenged from the helicopter.

"Let me," Rodney stated and took the pieces, pulling open the board beneath the radio station. He swapped out several boards and twisted a few wires. "You know I said I wanted a radio kit as a child....Well, I bought one a few years back, Found out I was pretty good at playing with the electronics." He huffed out a laugh. "Try it now."

John flipped the switch and, this time, the board lit up. He grinned until he realized that he hadn't thought about who to call. The Costa Rican government refused to send anyone to investigate the disappearance of fishermen off Las Cinco Muertes so he didn't want to waste a call on them, and he didn't know the frequency of the US embassy.

"Rodney?"

"Give it here." Rodney tuned the frequency but then looked to John. "I was on a special archaeological dig with...well, it was being run by the US Air force and had this frequency linked to... It might be dead now but..."

"But it's all we've got." Rodney nodded, looking relieved that John understood. "Do it," he stated and watched as Rodney forced some saliva into his mouth before making the call.

"Dr. McKay to SGC. Come in SGC." Nothing. He tried again. "This is Dr. Rodney McKay to SGC, General Jack O'Neill. Are you receiving?"

A crackle of static and then Rodney gasped in relief as a tinny voice echoed from the grimy speaker. "This is SGC. Please state your business with the General, Dr. McKay."

"We're stranded on Isla Sorna, Las Cinco Muertes, in dire need of assistance."

"Dinosaur island?"

As if to verify the words, John heard a distant roar of something huge, something that was moving closer if the tinkling of glass fragments falling from consoles was anything to go by. The room shook with each footstep and then John saw it step out onto the runway less than a hundred feet from the base of the tower. He knew that shape from childhood books of dinosaurs but where it had seemed so cool as a kid, now it was simply terrifying. It took another step in their direction.

"General O'Neill?"

"Yeah, McKay. What the hell was that...? No, don't answer that. Where are you exactly?"

"I...um...we're at..." Rodney's voice had risen several octaves as he stared out of the window, which put them on eye level with the massive T-Rex.

John took the radio from Rodney. "General O'Neill, this is Major John Sheppard, former USAF. We're in the control tower of the main air strip on Isla Sorna. Sir, we could really use a hand getting off this island."

There was a moment of silence before O'Neill came back. "On one condition, McKay. You sign the damn agreement. Both of you."

Rodney laughed mirthlessly, taking back the mike. "Believe me, General, I'd sign over all my worldly possessions right now...if I had any."

"Hang on, kids. We're on our way. Over and out."

Rodney gave a ragged sigh as O'Neill signed off, reaching slowly for John and hugging him close as the T-Rex took another two large steps towards them, bringing it up close to the broken windows.

"Don't move and it won't see us," Rodney whispered out of the corner of his mouth as the fetid breath from the meat-eater gusted over them. It roared again, spittle showering them, massive teeth barely four feet away from them, separated only by the consoles lining the windows. John heard Rodney's whimper above the roar, his own arms tightening on his lover as Rodney pressed his face into John's shoulder.

The massive head pushed through the broken window, its huge nose nudging against Rodney's arm, most likely scenting the blood. As it opened its mouth to snatch at what it could smell, John bunched his muscles ready to shove them both out of the creature's immediate reach, already planning their escape route back into the jungle. Instead, he felt the floor shimmer beneath his feet and then froze when he realized he was staring straight into another man's eyes. The man's lips quirked as he tried to force away a smile, his brown eyes twinkling in mirth even as his nose wrinkled.

"Dr. McKay? Major Sheppard? Welcome on board the _Daedalus_."

"Now that's what I call a rescue," John stated as he held on tightly to Rodney.

****

Carson acknowledged the radio call from the _Daedalus_.

"Everybody listen up. We have two male patients beaming down from the _Daedalus_ imminently. Possible dehydration, cuts and bruises only. Let's be prepared."

He watched as his team went to work, still feeling a little out of place from slipping into the spot vacated by Janet Frasier after she was killed in action off-world only a few weeks earlier. He knew his was a just a temporary assignment until they could bring in another doctor of Janet's caliber, and that suited him just fine because he preferred his genetic research.

The stench of stale sweat, dank earth, and goodness knows what else arrived with the two men, who seemed to be holding onto each other for dear life.

"Okay...first things first. Let's get those clothes off and incinerated."

Carson guessed which one was McKay instantly, having heard a few stories from Daniel concerning the scientist. The man was angry, slapping away from everyone's touch except for Sheppard's. Irritated by the delaying tactics, Carson stepped right up into McKay's face, and then he saw the terror in the man's wide eyes, realizing it was panic guiding the man's anger. His own annoyance bled away, his brogue becoming soft yet firm.

"Dr. McKay, you are covered in mud, sweat, blood, grime and goodness knows what else. Basically, you stink. Now, if you won't remove the offending clothing so I can examine you before shoving you under a hot shower and handing you a hot meal, then I'll have no option but to sedate you, and get my nurses to both strip you _and_ sponge bath you. Do you understand?"

The deep blue eyes stared into his, the panic slowly receding as his words sunk in.

"Hot meal?"

"Aye. As soon as I've examined you."

"I'll take my clothes off now," McKay stated meekly, offering a tiny smile in response to Carson's more indulgent one. Carson turned away, tilting his head at Sheppard meaningfully, and smiling as Sheppard started pulling off his grimy clothes.

"I'm stripping."

Turning back to McKay, Carson smirked at the man's obvious discomfort at being naked in front of him. Despite the ordeal both men had been through, they seemed relatively healthy though Carson noticed the bandaged arm. He cut away the soiled dressing that was stiff with mud and sweat, dropping it into a dish for incineration. The gash in McKay's arm was ragged but surprisingly clean. At the time it happened, it would have benefited from a few stitches but it had started to heal on its own now.

"Who dressed your arm?"

McKay looked across to the other bed where Sheppard was being examined carefully.

"Good work, Major."

"Thanks."

"Did you use a powdered antibiotic?"

"Polysporin. I know it's technically for minor cuts but I didn't have much else."

"Normally, I wouldn't recommend it over larger areas or deeper cuts like this but, under the circumstances, it probably prevented this wound from becoming infected. That and the regular cleaning."

"I worked med-evac for the Air Force before..." His words trailed off as if they had triggered an unwelcome memory.

Carson nodded, allowing the man his privacy and turned back to his own patient. He noticed the skin rash from too many days in a hot and humid climate with no washing facilities. Even McKay's hair was caked in grit and sweat, and something else that was rank and still wet. He rubbed some of it between his fingers, sniffing it and drawing back form the stench.

"Might I inquire what this is?"

Sheppard answered. "T-Rex saliva. It took a fancy to Rodney...as dinner."

"T-Rex!" Just when Carson thought he'd seen everything.

"Hah!" McKay shouted. "At least I'm not covered in dilophosaurus spit."

"Diloph...?"

Carson snapped his mouth shut, recalling talk of Hammond's experiments with genetics that brought dinosaurs back in the modern age. Hammond had approached him the best part of a decade ago, wanting him to lead his genetics program but Carson had agreed with Dr. Ian Malcolm's assessment. It was not a matter of if they _could_ bring back dinosaurs, more if they _should_. Now, if it had been a program to restore some of the recently extinct or endangered animals then he might have been interested. As it was, the program had been a disaster just waiting to happen, judging by the events in San Diego a few months back.

"Let's get this arm cleaned up and bagged, and then you can take that shower."

"God, yes!"

Carson smiled. McKay wouldn't be the only one relieved to have the man clean in his infirmary. As it was, Carson had to send a male nurse in with McKay to watch over the exhausted man while he washed, though he noticed the way Sheppard tensed when McKay moved out of his sight. From what he could gather from the snippets of conversation, both men had suffered through a frightening ordeal, relying completely on each other, though Carson would be a fool not to notice that the closeness had stepped across the boundary between friendship and lovers, especially as McKay bore all the physical signs of recent anal sex. He just hoped the bond they had formed under duress would not tear them apart now that the danger was gone.

An hour later, after he had seen both men eat a hot and nourishing meal, he released Sheppard from the infirmary, telling him to drink plenty of water and take himself off to bed. He noticed the reluctance to leave McKay behind.

"Don't worry, Major. I'll take good care of him while you get your rest."

"Is he...going to be okay?

Carson glanced at the sleeping man, eyes automatically flicking to the monitors and the drips he'd ordered as a precaution along with a broad spectrum antibiotic.

"Aye. He'll be just fine."

"Okay."

Sheppard licked his lips self consciously and then walked away, stealing a single backwards glance at McKay before the door closed behind him, but when the door opened again less than a minute later, Carson turned to vent his exasperation, only to see O'Neill stick his head round the door. Carson bit back a smile, aware of O'Neill's reluctance to enter the Infirmary, having spent too many hours here as a patient in the past.

"Daniel's due back in fifteen minutes, and you know he's going to ask about McKay, so..." The man blew out his cheeks and raised his hands in a _what can I do?_ gesture.

"He's had a pretty traumatic experience. The blood loss did not help with the dehydration, and his blood sugar level is still a little too low for my liking, so I'll be keeping him here overnight for observation. Otherwise, he'll be right as rain come morning."

O'Neill had wandered across to stare down at McKay. "Daniel likes him," he offered by way of an explanation but Carson could tell that O'Neill had taken a liking to McKay too, even if he would never admit to it.

"Keep me posted."

"I will do, General."

Carson sighed as the General sauntered off just a little more eagerly than usual, but Carson's domain seemed to have that effect on some people. In contrast, he caught a glimpse of someone hovering and sighed, stepping out into the corridor and confronting Sheppard.

"You can take the spare bed next to McKay's for tonight, though I'll be kicking you out if I find I need it for someone with a more pressing need."

The close-mouthed grin and the relief in the man's eyes told Carson he had made the right decision and, in hindsight, perhaps the Major simply needed to be close to someone right now. He'd suffered through the same terrifying ordeal as McKay after all, and maybe he was just a little better at hiding it.

****

Rodney was practically vibrating when he stepped into the small guest quarters assigned to John at the SGC.

"They found Atlantis! Can you believe that! That's what Daniel wanted me to sign on for a couple of years back." He grinned almost like a maniac, eyes losing focus. "The city that sank beneath the waves, except it wasn't on Earth or even in the same galaxy." His eyes were sparkling now. "The Lost City of the Ancients...and we can go there."

"We?"

"Um...I kind of mentioned that you might want to join the expedition, as a civilian pilot, of course, unless you'd like to rejoin the military and be trapped by their archaic and might I say highly suspect regulations regarding same-sex relationships. Plus you have that Master degree in Aeronautical Engineering that you never mentioned when...You know." He waved a hand between them.

John narrowed his eyes. "And?"

McKay scrunched up his face in that befuddled expression that John found far too endearing. "And there might be monsters there. Not that I love you only because you saved me from getting eaten once or twice but..."

"You love me?"

McKay straightened, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, I thought that was pretty obvious as I don't have sex in trees with just anyone."

"Well, that's good to hear."

Rodney's arms fell to his sides, a myriad of expressions crossing his face, revealing every emotion behind every thought. "I'm...not very good at this whole relationship thing. If I...misunderstood then..."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You didn't misunderstand."

Rodney frowned. "Then why won't you go?"

John smirked. "I signed on an hour ago, as soon as General O'Neill told me you were wavering because you didn't want to leave me behind."

"You did?" The beaming smile faded abruptly. "Please don't tell me you joined as US military."

"No, I didn't."

"Oh, thank God!"

John opened his mouth to mention that, for someone professing to be an atheist, he did a lot of _thanking God_ but then he had his own fervent praises tumbling through his mind as his arms were suddenly filled with Rodney's strong, warm body. He hadn't registered how much he ached to feel his arms around the man again until this moment, and he held on tight as Rodney's mouth plundered his, tongues gliding and coiling, breathing in the scent of each other as if it had been months rather than a day since they last kissed.

Rodney's mouth was so much sweeter now, clean with a sharp taste of mint toothpaste and coffee but, underneath it all was the scent that he had craved even beneath the staleness and grime of those days on Isla Sorna; the unique scent of a man he had come to love. He flipped Rodney over onto his back and leaned over him, staring deep into wide, blue eyes that reminding him of the sky, of flying so high that he almost touched the darkness of space. He leaned in and rubbed his freshly shaved cheek against Rodney's, feeling only the slightest rasp of bristles but it was enough to bring him to full hardness, cock pressing eagerly against Rodney's.

He kissed slower this time, savoring the pleasure of having Rodney lying beneath him warm, and clean, and safe, one hand drifting to stroke across the soft black t-shirt, finding a tiny nipple and rubbing it through cloth, feeling the tiny bud tighten as Rodney began to writhe and moan. Almost as an after thought, he realized that he had only ever seen his lover naked once, in the infirmary, and he wanted to rectify that immediately. He wanted to be able to look freely, and to touch every square inch of the soft, mostly pale skin with hands, lips and tongue. He pushed up to sitting and stared down at his lover.

"Get naked, McKay."

Rodney flushed under the heat of John's gaze, hands shaking as he dragged the t-shirt over his head and flung it aside while simultaneously kicking off his shoes and toeing off his socks, revealing pale skin adorned by bruises of varying shades. He reached for the fly of his pants, trembling fingers eager to free his constricted erection and yet his eyes had taken on that soft vulnerable look that John so adored. John eased his fears with a gentle caress, palm sliding flat across a lightly furred pectoral to the smooth hairless flesh surrounding the still peaked nipple. He rubbed across it in teasingly light strokes, pleased with the way Rodney's breath stuttered, chest arching up a fraction as if demanding more.

"Pants, Rodney," John whispered, aware that his voice was almost cracking from this need to see all of his lover, wanting so much more than a fumble in the dimness of a post-dawn light filtering through the canopy of leaves. He wanted to see naked flesh, no longer shrouded in dirty, torn clothes and hidden in shadows, wanted to see the heart-shaped ass that had fitted into his lap to perfection, that had sunk down upon him and taken him away from all the fear of violent death for such a sweet moment in time. He wanted to see along the length of naked back as Rodney sucked his cock, smoothing his hands over He knew he couldn't have it all at once, knew that he would have to wait for each glorious moment.

Rodney raised his hips to draw down the military issue pants and boxers, and John tugged them off the rest of the way, sitting back and staring at the naked body stretched out along his bed, his for the taking.

"Perfect," he murmured, one hand gliding across the soft belly, feeling firmer muscle lying beneath. He saw a flush heighten the color of Rodney's cheeks but John had always preferred the softer types rather than hard, rippling six-packs. He loved the fleshier sides, perfect to hold on to, cushioning the press of sharp hip bone and pelvis.

Eventually, his eyes strayed to the hard cock standing proud from a bed of light brown curls, head glistening with a dewdrop of precome. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and lapped at the tiny droplet, savoring the salty taste bursting across his tongue. John pulled back completely and stood up, eyes traveling along the exposed body from heaving chest to slightly quivering thighs, and he began to strip off his own clothes, discarding them carelessly. He licked his lips as he studied Rodney's mouth, recalling the amazing feel of it wrapped around his cock, the heat and velvet softness, the slight hint of teeth as Rodney took him deep. Yet, as much as he wanted to fuck that wide, beautiful mouth, he desperately wanted to push back Rodney's knees and slide balls-deep inside the tight channel. He wanted to stare into Rodney's eyes as he took him slow but hard; he wanted to capture his whimpers of pleasure as they kissed lazily at first, then more desperately as sensation built on sensation, until he was swallowing Rodney's cries of pleasure and satiation, feeling the heat of his release slicking between them, ass muscles clenching hard and dragging guttural moans from him as he came deep inside that perfect ass.

The thought alone was enough to bring him close to the edge and he had to drag on his balls to stop the impending rush of orgasm, decision made.

"Want to fuck you," he whispered breathily. "Want to fuck you so deep and so hard."

Rodney grinned, legs splaying wider, and drawing up in invitation.

It took a moment of fumbling inside the bedside cabinet before he found the hand lotion someone had thoughtfully left there, and then his fingers were slipping inside the welcoming body, stroking deep, bringing soft cries of pleasure and tiny thrusts from Rodney as they brushed across the small sensitive gland. Rodney sobbed his relief when John positioned him carefully, one leg braced over his shoulder, revealing the loosened, quivering hole. It took but a moment to push inside, the velvet tightness triggering the memory from before, and then he was sinking in on a single stroke, feeling the stretch of muscle and flesh accommodating him, wrapping him tightly in silken heat. He fucked him slowly, reveling in each stroke and in the intense pleasure building, one hand fisting Rodney, timing the strokes perfectly so they were rocking together, losing all sense of self as they moved as one being, one desire, ecstasy triggered by the flood of liquid heat between them as Rodney arched up in release, sending John flying as he gazed into wide, unfocused blue.

He came back down to earth with the sweetest sigh of satisfaction, limbs shaky with that perfect kind of exhaustion, heavy and lethargic as they shared sloppy, mouthing kisses while hands stroked idly over sweaty skin. John breathed in deep as he rolled to the side, taking in the heady scent of male sex, and of Rodney. He leaned up on one elbow and, with the lightest touch, he traced a path across a deeper bruise over Rodney's flank, recalling the gallimimus that had torn Rodney's hand from his, almost bringing him to his knees as he twisted from the force. The flash of teeth and killing claws had stopped his heart until he realized it had not seen them, that it had seen only its intended, larger prey.

"I nearly lost you once."

"I've been told I'm an impossible person to lose once I've latched on to someone."

John felt his lips quirk because, yes, he could imagine Rodney being possessive, holding his toys close lest someone snatch them from him, but that simply mirrored his own possessive streak. John dragged on Rodney until he had him safely plastered half across his chest, ignoring the token protest of being sweaty and sticky because they had both suffered far worse only too recently.

"You know, I really know so little about you. I mean, you know about Jeannie and my cat, and the time my dog ran away, and..."

"Me, I like Ferris wheels, college football, anything that goes more than 200 miles per hour...and I love you."

He flicked the switch and sent the room into darkness, having shocked Rodney into silence, holding his lover close as he slipped into welcome sleep.

****

**Epilogue:**

Atlantis was more beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed, with light washing through stained glass, bathing the gate room in gold and blue, in burnt orange and ocean green. Rodney knew he was gaping, speechless with stunned pleasure as only John had managed so far in their lovemaking. A familiar man was coming down the ornate flight of stairs leading to a control area, glasses perched on his nose, blue eyes shining as his hand reached out.

"Rodney!" Daniel grabbed Rodney's hand before including John in his greeting. "John. Welcome to Atlantis!"

Two days later, John sat in the control chair and the room lit up around him. A small man with wild hair and glasses stepped forward.

"Think about where we are in this solar system."

An amazingly detailed, holographic map filled the area above their heads and Rodney could only stare in awe, even forgetting to translate the accompanying Ancient text. His eyes flicked across to Daniel, sharing a thunderstruck expression, before they dropped to his lover, who had told Rodney that Carson's gene therapy would not work for him.

"Did I do that?" he asked in a deceptively innocent voice, raising one eyebrow at Rodney.

"Why you... You knew! You didn't need the therapy because..." Because John had one of the strongest natural expression of the ATA gene found so far, equaled only by Jack O'Neill's.

O'Neill smirked and John grinned, and Rodney realized that he and Daniel were probably the only two people in the room who had not known. He turned back to Daniel, who was taking the teasing in his usual good natured way, and shook his head.

"Flyboys!" he stated almost disdainfully, but Rodney could not keep the smile from his lips as he looked back up at the beautiful display.

THE END


End file.
